Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter.

Nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.

Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?

Her voice was now so shrill only bats would be able to hear it soon, but she had reached a level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless.

Every writer must have a chip of ice in his heart.

Although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

I had the idea of a boy who was a wizard and didn't yet know what he was. I never sat down and wondered, "What shall I write about next?". It just came, fully formed.